Nigel Mansell - Mansell - My Autobiography

I had started to get noticed by this point and I decided to try my luck and approach a man called John Thornburn, a manager who had a reputation for running a good race team. One day I walked into his office and said, ‘Hello, my name is Nigel Mansell and before you throw me out I don’t want money, I want help.’

I had bought a slightly better car, but it was still pretty worn out and I was anxious to get it prepared as well as possible. John said he would have one of his mechanics take a look at it.

The following weekend I got pole position and a win with it. I rang John up to thank him for his work and he was obviously stunned.

‘What do you mean you won with it?’ he gasped. ‘When we looked at it, only three of the wheels were in line, the other was an inch and a half out of line because of all the shunts it’s had. Either you’ve got a lot of talent or you were driving against a blind school, because that car is a load of crap.’

My next race was at Thruxton and without telling me, John came along as a spectator. He liked what he saw and told me that he would help. He said, ‘You have a lot of natural talent, Nigel. There are plenty of quick drivers out there, but very few really talented racers. Remember that no-one can beat you except yourself.’

I knew he was right. I think it is true for anybody as long as they have equal equipment and total self-belief and have the capabilities or the talent to do the job. John told me that I had to get really fit so that I would be strong at the end of races. He said it was possible to win a race in the last couple of laps when your rivals are beginning to get tired. At the time I was a little overweight, largely because I used to enjoy my beer, but I knew John was right so I stopped drinking there and then. I have been a teetotaller ever since. I also got very fit by going to the gym and running several miles every day. In actual fact I hated running, but I forced myself to do it because I knew it would pay off.

The season was going well and I worked my way up to being a leading contender for one of the national Formula Ford Championships. Because we had no money, Rosanne and I used to sleep in the back of a van at race meetings. We borrowed it from Alan McKechnie who was John Thornburn’s partner in the wine business, so ironically, although I had given up the drink, I went to sleep every night with a stale smell of booze hanging in the air. Not only that, but it was freezing cold in the van and the condensation from the ceiling and the windows used to drip on our sleeping bags. Combined with the wind to which circuits like Silverstone and Snetterton are often exposed, neither Rosanne nor I had ever experienced such extreme cold.

But we didn’t think twice about it. It wasn’t a hardship, it was reality for us at the time. Rosanne and I have a saying: ‘What you’ve never had you never miss.’ If we had had a better life up until that point and then had to do that sort of thing, it would have been a hardship. But the fact is that this was our life. It was how we had to live in order to achieve what we both wanted. It was unpleasant and looking back on it now with all the creature comforts we have today, then it does seem like a terrible hardship, but at the time it was necessary and whatever was necessary we did without a second thought.

Both of us were working overtime to pay for the racing. Rosanne was working for British Gas as a demonstrator and took on evening assignments to get as much money as she could. At times she was working up to eighty hours a week. It was a tough situation. We had very little spare time and certainly couldn’t contemplate taking a holiday. We saw less and less of our friends and our families. Deep down we knew what we were doing was right, but many of the people around us had serious doubts.

We tried to keep our distance from them. It wasn’t a case of cutting them off, we just made a personal commitment to ourselves that we didn’t need negative people in our company, telling us that we would never make it, that we shouldn’t take the risk and how stupid we were to try.

When you want to turn the tables and be successful in an environment which is already tough enough, you can do without that kind of negative influence. Everybody’s entitled to their own opinion, but if it’s really negative, then it is far more constructive to keep it to yourself. It doesn’t help anybody to come out with that sort of thing.

There were people whom we hardly ever saw, but if something went wrong they would come up to us and say, ‘I could have told you about that. I could have told you that wouldn’t work.’ It’s amazing how many people we’ve run into with that attitude.

If they were more constructive in their approach and came to us saying, ‘Listen Nigel and Rosanne, we love you a lot, but we’re concerned about what you’re trying to do and that you might get hurt,’ and maybe even make a few tactful suggestions about other ways of going about things, then I can respect that kind of opinion. As it turned out, our true friends were fabulous and kept us going, while gradually the ones who didn’t believe in us dropped away.

I have always been a positive thinker and I have never been able to tolerate people who are negative. Perhaps that is the root of my problem with some of the motor racing journalists I have encountered over the years. In any case, it is something to which I really hardenened my attitude during those difficult early days in Formula Ford.

Meanwhile, things began to look up. A guy called Mike Taylor offered me a newer car, on condition that I used my own engine. I jumped at the chance and drove down to his workshop to fit my engine into his car. It was very late when we finished and I only managed a couple of hours sleep before I had to go to Thruxton to race it. Although I was exhausted, I won the race, which was immensely satisfying. It was to prove a major turning point.

The car was made by a company called Crossle, which was based in Ireland. When John Crossle heard what had happened at Thruxton he called John Thornburn and said, ‘Tell me honestly, John, how good is this bloke Mansell?’

‘Well from a Formula Ford point of view,’ John said, ‘he’s the best there’s ever been. But he’s got no money.’ Crossle thought for a second and said, ‘I suppose I’d better give him a car then.’ To which John replied, ‘Well, if you don’t someone else will, because he’s going to win whatever he drives.’

Crossle sent a car over and we managed to persuade one of the top engine tuners to work on the engines for free. Things were beginning to come together and at this point I made the biggest decision of my life.

I was in the position of manager at Lucas, even though I was only twenty-two, and it was a well paid job. The problem was they wanted me to make myself available to work Saturdays and Sundays if the workload required, but they weren’t prepared to pay any overtime. At the time I was racing most weekends during the season and winning a lot. I pointed this out to my boss and he said, ‘Well, Nigel, you’ve got to decide whether you’re going to be an amateur playboy racer or a mature man in a sensible job.’

That night I went back to Rosanne and told her about my conversation at work. We thought about it until late into the night and agreed that we would only be young once. If we didn’t at least try to make it in racing we would have to live with the regret for the rest of our lives. Every element of the discussion brought us back to the same answer – we had to go for it.

The next day I went into the office and handed in my notice. My boss almost fell off his chair. He really hadn’t expected it. I said to him, ‘Look, I’m young and I’ve got to give racing a try. I’ve got all my engineering qualifications, so if it doesn’t work out I can always come back here or to a similar place.’